


So. This is Nice.

by lyryk (s_k)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, movie_las
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-04
Updated: 2011-01-04
Packaged: 2018-02-10 12:44:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2025555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s_k/pseuds/lyryk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for movie_las for the challenge prompt 'character finds out s/he has a twin'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So. This is Nice.

‘Nice,’ Sirius says, cringing inwardly at his choice of word. His voice, barely used in twelve years, still sounds hoarse. He looks around Remus’s small, slightly dishevelled living room. Books are piled high over the little three-legged dining table, its legs ending in rather horrendous-looking wooden claws. A cup balances precariously on the edge of the table, and Sirius pushes it further to the centre, nudging a few rolls of parchment out of the way.

‘Tea?’ Remus calls from the kitchen.

‘Yeah, thanks,’ he calls back, throwing himself into a comfortably lumpy armchair. Remus comes back into the living room, wiping his hands on a small tea-towel. ‘Kettle’s on,’ he says after a moment’s silence.

‘’Kay.’ Sirius stretches his legs out in front of him, crossing his ankles. Remus clears his throat, and Sirius senses that falling back into friendship will be easier thought of than done, for both of them.

‘So,’ Sirius says, only to break the silence. The word seems stupid, like ‘nice’. Fuck, who _says_ stuff like that? There is too much to talk about, but everything is too large to fit into words. Lily and James. Peter. Harry. _Harry_. Sent back to that wretched place when he could have had a home with his godfather.

His gaze, somehow disconnected from his thoughts, comes to rest on a photo frame on the old dusty piano against the wall. ‘Haven’t seen that before.’ He gets up to examine it more closely. It’s a photograph of two identical infants in a red pram, light brown curls bouncing over their small foreheads. Sirius frowns. ‘Remus, that’s you, isn’t it?’

‘Yep.’ Remus’s voice has gone toneless, the way it does when he’s trying very hard to hide his feelings.

Sirius turns around to face him, and it’s as if he’s suddenly looking through a brand-new pair of glasses and seeing the years in the lines on Remus’s face, in the grey of his hair, in the way his shoulders are set. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘I had a twin. I found out about him a few years ago.’ He shrugs, as though people find out every day that they have long-lost twins, as though what he’s saying is commonplace, _normal_.

Sirius knows already from Remus’s use of the past tense that the twin is dead, and he is chilled from within both by that knowledge and by the impassive, almost-casual tone that Remus is using. ‘Remus, what happened?’

His friend smiles, the kind of smile that someone gives you when they hand you your change over the counter. ‘He died. Soon after I was bitten by Greyback.’ The kettle whistles from the kitchen, and Remus pushes himself away from the table he’s been leaning against. ‘The Ministry was cracking down hard on werewolves. Wanted to ensure the population didn’t grow. He was exterminated. They mistook him for me.’

‘Moony—’ Sirius takes a step forward.

The kettle whistles again. ‘I’ll get the tea,’ Remus says shortly, and flees.


End file.
